Whispers of a Dance Forgotten
by warwithheaven
Summary: Harry has been casting memory charms on himself ever since he left home seven years ago. Now that he is back he will have to face his past and deal with a new threat. Slash, HPSSDM, angst, character death! Thanks to IGToW!
1. Prologue: Whispers of a Man Who Was

Prologue

"Sir, do you have your ticket?"

Blinking, the young man turned in his seat towards the voice. "Excuse me?"

The woman sighed and asked gently, "Do you have your ticket?"

"Oh, yes." The young man reached for the bag on the ground by his feet and started to shuffle through numerous papers, muttering to himself all the while. "I know it is in here. Maybe..." He stuck his hand deep into the bag, deeper than the woman thought was possible, before he smiled and pulled his arm out the bag with his ticket clasped in his hand. "I knew I had it."

The woman smiled gently and took the ticket. The young man turned back to look out the window of the train. The sky was clear and the sun shone almost too brightly for his liking. He tried to look for something interesting in the fields that they were passing, but all he could see where herds of sheep and cows and a few houses here and there. Overall it was a rather boring trip.

The young man turned his attention to those around him. Two rows behind him was a lady sleeping whose snores were so loud he fancied he could feel them vibrating through his seat. There was a tall skinny man sitting in the seat in front of him who kept tapping his pen on the arm of his seat as he read "How Not to Lose The Spice in Your Life" by R.P. Rynolds. At the front of his car was a family of three, a wife, a husband, and a little girl who couldn't have been more than six years old. The girl kept on telling her mother that there was a monster in the toilet, while both of her parents tried to reassure her that there were no such things as monsters.

The young man smiled slightly. A boring trip indeed.

"Sir, your ticket." The woman said, holding out the ticket towards him.

"Thank you," he replied, smiling slightly as he took the ticket from her. The woman nodded and moved to the man in front of him.

Alone once more, or alone as one can be with other people around him, he closed his eyes. Sleep had escaped him for the past few nights and he could feel exhaustion creeping in on him. He couldn't fall asleep, though, not where other people could see him. Not so they could see him when he thrashed around and screamed from the dreams of blood, death, torture...

No, best not to think of that.

He opened his eyes. He couldn't fall asleep here. Who knew what might escape.

So, the young man turned his thoughts to other things, random things, like how warm it would be tomorrow or when the next eclipse would be. But these thoughts didn't entertain him for long, just a few minutes until his mind wandered to what was about to occur.

He was returning. After seven years he was returning to a place he thought he would never see again... or better yet never wanted to see again. He didn't know why he was going 'home'. He had only received an urgent message stating, 'We need you--now. -AD'. Memories of times past flashed in his eyes, memories of smiling faces, of joyous laughter, of painful tears, and of sweet decline.

Shaking his head the young man pushed those thoughts from his mind.

'Stop thinking about it. You have a least two more hours of peace, of normalcy, don't get hasty and throw it away,' he thought.

He pushed his hair behind his ears, revealing a faded lightening bolt scar across his forehead.

Harry Potter was returning home, for better or for worse.

'I only wish I new what I was getting myself into,' he thought, before he let his mind wander as he watched the passing fields outside his window.


	2. Chapter 1: Whispers of a Problem

**_FIC: Whisper of a Dance Forgotten- Chapter One_**  
Title: Whisper of a Dance Forgotten (Chapter One)  
Warnings: AU, threesome, angst, torture, character death, most pertain to future chapters.

Chapter One: Whisper of a Problem

Harry was sitting on the lid of the toilet. He'd been there for the past twenty minutes, ever since the conductor announced their imminent arrival at the station.

Fifteen minutes ago he'd heard the little girl tell her parents in a high frantic voice that 'the man' had been eaten by the monster in the toilet. Not too long after a woman's voice called through the door asking if he was well. He'd replied that motion sickness had sunk in and the woman had left him alone.

The truth of it, though, was deep down inside he thought maybe if he stayed cooped up in the bathroom, he wouldn't have to face those who were waiting for him on Platform Eleven. It was a childish instinct, yes, but nevertheless it made him feel a little better.

Harry groaned and cradled his head in his cupped hands. 'I wish I had never received that letter,' Harry thought as he willed away the urge to sleep. With the arrival of the letter, his nightmares had returned with a vengeance and wouldn't leave him in peace during the night. During the day even, he became so paranoid he would see Death Eaters lurking in the shadows when there was nothing there, and once or twice he could have sworn he saw Lucius Malfoy gazing at him from store windows while he wandered the streets.

Harry lifted his head and examined himself in the mirror, trying to turn his thoughts away from his paranoia to what the others would think of him now. He had grown, not much by any standard, but at least he was taller than the meagre five feet-five inches when he had left. His hair was longer and streaked with white at the tender age of twenty-four. He never understood why the white appeared after the end of the war, but he knew it resisted all dyes and means of magical concealment. Harry smiled at the mirror. He remembered trying to dye his hair brown once, but the white streaks only turned a bright green colour before returning to the blinding white a few moments later. Harry's smile weakened as he looked at his eyes. They were the same shocking green they had always been, but that was only because he was hiding his true color behind Muggle contacts.

One day, not long after he'd left, he'd awakened one morning to severe pain in his eyes. He had wanted to pull them out, scratch them out, and rip them out of their sockets just to make the pain end. Though as soon as the pain started, it ended, leaving only a light tingling sensation behind and, shockingly, a new eye colour of deep rust. Again, he did not understand the change or what it meant, he just accepted it and hid it from the world around him.

Pulling his eyes away from his reflection he looked down at his watch. They should be there any minute now and he could feel the butterflies in his stomach increasing at the mere thought.

What had made him respond to that letter when he had ignored all of the others? What made him get on this train and go to London to meet people he would have rather forgotten? Was it the desperation and the need that he had sensed flowing off those few words? Or was it his own need that made him return 'home'? Why was this so hard for him? He was the fucking Boy-Who-Lived and he was scared of old friends and professors?

He was startled out of his thoughts when there was a quick succession of three knocks on the bathroom door.

"Sir, are you all right? We're going to arrive at the station in just under five minutes. Do you need a doctor?" a woman's voice called through the door.

Sighing, Harry got to his feet and opened the door, smiling kindly at the woman who had asked for his ticket earlier. "No, I am quite fine. I feel much better, actually." With a soft smile he moved around the woman and headed back to his seat. The little girl watched him with wide astonished blue eyes and Harry couldn't help but reassure her. "There are no such things as monsters, young lady."

The girl's eyes crinkled as she frowned at him. "Are you sure?" she asked disbelievingly.

"Of course I'm sure--" The train jerked to a stop and Harry flew forward, landing on his face. He heard the little girl scream and her parents saying something he couldn't understand. Harry groaned as he lifted himself up, wondering if he was going to have carpet burns on his face. "What was that?" he asked to no one in particular, feeling his nose to make sure it wasn't bleeding or broken.

It was then that he sensed it.

Whatever 'it' was, it called to his mind the far to familiar reek of death and decay.

The little girl was still screaming, but he didn't try to calm her, nor did he pay any attention to the ticket woman as she tried to explain the situation. Instead he slowly and cautiously walked to the window to look outside, running his hand over his concealed wand in his shirtsleeve.

They were barely on the other side of the London city limits, with few houses and businesses scattered about but Harry couldn't see anyone.

'Maybe my paranoia is kicking in again,' he thought to himself as he put his face closer to glass so he could see farther up the train. But still he saw nothing.

He was about to pull away from the window when something dropped down from the top of the train right in front of Harry. His eyes widened, taking in the grotesque form of the creature kneeling on its haunches with its back turned to Harry. He heard screams in the background from the other passengers and the hurried pounding of feet as they tried to escape to other cars.

Harry, though, only had eyes for the creature. Tattered robes were wrapped around a large portion of its legs and torso. Its hair was reminiscent of the colour of mold found on old cheese and its skin, visible through the rents and tears in its cloak, was a mix of white with black lumps, which looked as though they were peeling off in large portions. The creature rose to its feet, looking oddly human in form, and turned around to face the train window where Harry stood.

Its face was what stunned Harry the most. The mouth was stretched wide into a sort of perverted smile, which showed off several rows of small sharp pointed teeth. The nose hardly existed; it was just a small bump of skin in the middle of its face. And the creature's wicked yellow eyes were staring straight at him.

Harry slowly fingered his wand down his arm to where he could palm the handle, his eyes never leaving the being in front of him.

The creature cocked his head to the side and spoke, "Weelll, iff it isssn't Harrry Potter, thee Boy-Whoo-Lived."

Harry watched in disbelief as the creature moved faster than anything he had ever seen and attacked the glass window that separated them with claws he hadn't noticed before.

'Oh shit.'

"Where is that damned boy?" Moody growled to his companions as he paced.

Severus Snape sneered at the old Auror and crossed his arms across his chest and ignored the man's infuriating pacing. Snape couldn't believe he was there in the first place, standing in a Muggle city, in a Muggle train station, wearing Muggle clothes, and waiting for the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Make-His-Life-Hell.

Growling quietly he thought back to the meeting he had with the Headmaster just two days ago.

"Come in, Severus." Dumbledore's voice had called from behind the door to his office.

Snape, with his hand hovering just above the door where it was ready to knock, pursed his lips and moved to open the door and walked inside.

Dumbledore's office was much like it had been in previous years, full of gadgets, books, and, of course, the paintings of past headmasters who wouldn't stop talking every time Snape entered the office. Snape ignored the questions of 'is your hair greasier than usual?' and 'I heard that new first year, Jacobson, blew up your whole classroom-- how did he do it?' that the paintings were asking him and went straight the chair in front of the Headmaster's desk.

"Ah, Severus, so good to see you! It seems you are never out of that dungeon of yours unless it's off to find potion ingredients or to visit Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore smiled at Snape in a way that he found a little disconcerting. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Headmaster, you are the one who called me up here." Snape had replied, not allowing any of his annoyance to show through.

"Yes, yes, indeed. I remember now." Dumbledore's face turned serious and that, in turn, had made Snape wary of what was going to be said next. "You see, Severus, I have a small mission for you and a few others. A simple retrieve and return."

"Somehow I don't believe that." Snape had said, wrinkling his nose slightly.

"Oh, Severus, such little faith you have."

Snape snorted. 'Little faith indeed.' Snape thought as he glanced at the large clock that was hanging on one of station's pillars. 'Where is that annoying boy? He's ten minutes late.'

"Something's wrong," a voice said from his shoulder. Looking down a few inches, his eyes reached the silver-blond hair of Draco Malfoy.

"The only thing wrong is that I am here," Severus growled, "waiting for that ungrateful brat."

"I'm serious, Snape. Something is out th--" Draco started but cut himself off as he felt a steady pulse of strong and pure magic. "Do you feel that?"

"Yes," Snape replied, eyes narrowing slightly as he concentrated on the magic. It felt strangely familiar to him. 'Harry...' He then could feel some other signature that was darker... tainted. "It's Potter and something else." With a glance at Draco, he Apparated to Harry, with Draco and a cursing Moody not far behind.


	3. Chapter 2: Whispers of a Past Killing

Title: Whisper of a Dance Forgotten

Author: Warwithheaven

Rating: R

Warnings: AU, character death, torture (in past), angst

Disclaimer: Not mine, nor will it ever be mine. All belong to Rowling and whoever else has there hands in it.

Chapter Two: Whisper of a Past Killing

Harry dove behind a row of seats as the creature spat another fireball towards him. Ever since the creature had broken through the window and tried to gut Harry with his claws, Harry had been shooting spells at it left and right, he even tried to levitate the bastard but he wouldn't leave the ground. The creature would hiss and his eyes would glow yellow every time a spell would hit him.

Ignoring the burn wounds he had, he got to his feet and crouched low.

"Haarrry, youu smmelll soo sweeet." the creature said, loudly inhaling to absorb Harry's smell. Harry crinkled his nose in confusion. 'Smell?' Harry sniffed his arm. 'I don't smell like anything other that soap from the bathroom and the coffee I spilt on myself.' Harry's eyes widen in comprehension. 'Shit, it can smell my magic. No wonder it didn't go after any of the other passengers, they were all Muggle.'

Harry watched the creature's shadow move across the row of seats parallel to where he was hiding. His brain went into overdrive as he thought of how he was going to get out of this mess. His magic didn't work, he didn't have any Muggle weapons, though honestly he doubted that they would work, and he probably couldn't run past it since it moved so fast. He was running out of options and there was no time left to decide what he could do.

Then suddenly it hit him like a ton of bricks, 'Apparate!' Harry hit his forehead with the palm of his hand sighing in his stupidity, and was about to escape when he heard three distinct pops. The creature stopped moving and turned away from Harry.

"What the fuck is that!" Harry heard from the front of the car. The voice sounded vaguely familiar to him but Harry chose not to dwell on it.

The creature breathed in deeply as if smelling the newcomers. "Mmm…Moorrre…" the creature growled.

There was a stream of multi-colored spells shot at the creature but the creature did not react to the onslaught of magic. It stood there with its eyes gleaming yellow and breathing deeply.

"Magic doesn't work!" Harry yelled, trying to be heard over all of the noise.

"What do you mean magic doesn't work?" Another familiar voice growled.

"Do you see anything happening to it?" Harry yelled, albeit a bit sarcastically.

Suddenly the stream of spells stopped and all was quiet. The creature stood still for a moment with its arms stretched out above him as if praying for a miracle with his head tilted back and his eyes closed in ecstasy.

Barely breathing, Harry tried to focus on Apparating but his nose started to itch. He scrunched up his nose trying his hardest not to sneeze—

"Acho."

His sneeze wasn't very loud but in the deafening silence it was deafening. The creature's head snap down with an audible pop and turned towards where Harry knelt behind the seats.

Harry looked around the seats and he let out an audible gasp of surprise.

Its eyes were no longer yellow but a brilliant red-orange. Its skin was more a peach color rather than the sickly white and the large black dots that had decorated most of its skin were smaller. Harry looked at the creature's face and could swear that it looked more human than before.

Suddenly the creature was kneeling right in front of Harry, its eyes locked with his. Frozen in shock, Harry did nothing as the creature leaned in and sniffed.

"Mmmm…" It put its face closer to Harry. Harry gagged at the horrid breath but he did not turn away. "Delic—"

There was a series of pops making the creature's attention to waver. After a moment the creature lunged at Harry…

But Harry was gone.

"I see seven years of supposed adulthood has not given you the slightest shred of common sense, Mr. Potter." A very masculine voice growled after they had Apparated and appeared in what looked like a pub. "Did it not occur to you that returning to that incorrigible Boy-Who-Lived persona might prove lethal?"

Immediately, Harry froze.

Now that voice was very familiar.

"What? No droll come-back, Potter?" He said.

Ignoring the pain of the burns he had all over his body, Harry slowly stood up and turned around to face the man who was still slightly clutching his shoulder. Harry came face to face with a chest covered by a black shirt. Looking farther up, Harry passed over frowning lips and a large nose, before catching dark obsidian eyes.

_Harry was lying there, on cold white marble floors, bleeding to death from several wounds on his abdomen. He whole body was tingling from loss of blood and he felt like he was going to faint at any moment. _

_'So this is the end,' he'd thought to himself. _

_Slowly he looked around the once white room, which was now painted red with blood. There were numerous bodies surrounding Harry, some his friends and others his enemies, but the one that mattered the most was only a pile of ash two feet away from him. _

_Pulling his eyes away from the blood and gore around him Harry looked up at the ceiling. 'Now this is what I want my last memory to be of before I die.' Harry thought to himself as he gazed at the beautiful ceiling above him. _

_On the ceiling were paintings of angels, animals, wizards, and elves. There was not on spot of darkness on the ceiling, everything on it shouted peace, happiness, and good things. Harry smiled sadly at the painting. 'It is ironic isn't it?' He thought to himself. 'That one of the biggest battles of the past few centuries took place under one of the most peaceful and beautiful painting I have ever seen.' Harry looked down at the blood washed room. 'This room will never be the same again.' _

_Harry began to feel the pull of sleep on his mind and body. He tried to fight it but his strength was leaving him. 'At least it is finished.' _

_The blackness was closing in and Harry was lulled farther and farther away into its awaiting comfort. _

_Only to be shaken slightly by strong hands on his shoulders. Opening his eyes a little, so that could see who was bothering him, Harry tensed. _

_Snape knelt in front of him, his face unusually worried. Harry saw his lips move but he couldn't hear anything. He tried to tell Snape to go, to leave him alone to die in peace, but all that came out was groan of pain. Snape moved his hands to Harry's stomach and pushed slightly. Harry moaned quietly in anguish as he felt Snape's magic begin to heal him. _

_Locking green eyes with obsidian, Harry fell into darkness. _

"Potter! Stop daydreaming. We need to get back to Hogwarts." A man said from Harry's right.

Harry turned slightly to see one Draco Malfoy scowling at him. Malfoy didn't look like he had changed at all in the past seven years, except for a scar that went from the middle of his forehead, over his nose, and to his opposite cheek, marring his once unblemished face.

"Beautiful aren't I, Potter?" Malfoy smirked.

For some reason Harry wasn't as panicked as he thought he would be while standing between his school rival and his potions professor. He didn't even feel the need to make any sarcastic remarks to either of them. Ignoring the other two men, Harry ran a hand through his hair and glanced around the pub. 'I'm in shock. That is why it hasn't set in yet.'

Malfoy gave Snape a slight confused look over the top of Harry's head. Snape shrugged.

"Come on, we need to get you to Pomfrey and Dumbledore. Moody went to the Ministry to tell the Minister about what happened so they can secure the area. He was in a right pissy mood." Malfoy said in all seriousness. Harry nodded, not really paying any attention, and began to walk towards a door that he had seen while observing the area.

"Wrong way, Potter. Does your memory of this place no longer exist in that infinitesimal brain of yours?" Snape growled as he crossed his arms and looked impatiently at Harry.

Surprised, he stopped and looked around the pub. He was in the Three Broomsticks, though it looked like Rosemerta had redecorated since he had left. Turning around and stuffing his hands in his jean pockets, he walked to the door. When he reached it he stopped and placed his hand on the old bronze doorknob.

'On the other side of this door is a place that I would have preferred not return to.' Harry thought to himself. 'There is no turning back after this. No escaping this life again.' Memories of his past began to resurface and doubt began to settle into his mind. 'I can't do this. I can't face them. I can't face all of them again,' Harry fingers turned white as he clasped harder onto the doorknob. 'Not after what happened afterwards, not after the kil—'

"Potter, we haven't got all day." Malfoy stated.

Trying to calm himself, Harry took a deep breath. "Why?"

There was a few moments of silence before Snape said, "Why what, Mr. Potter?"

Harry's whole body shook and the pain of the burns seemed to increase as he said, "Why am I here?" Harry let his head fall against the wood door in front of him. Snape and Malfoy exchanged looks. "Why are you here? Why did Dumbledore send me that letter? Why aren't you being callous and uncaring towards me? You should be, Merlin knows you should be."

"What are you talking about Potter?" Malfoy said as he stepped closer to Harry.

"I ruined it. I ruined everything. They detest me because I trusted him. He killed him and almost killed--" Harry started but he couldn't breath. Panic reared its ugly head and seemed to laugh manically as Harry lost control. 'Is this is why it is so hard? Am I afraid that my friends hate me now? That they don't want anything to do with me? Because of what my actions caused?'

"Merlin's beard! Breathe Potter!"

That was the last thing he heard before he was surrounded by darkness.


	4. Chapter 3: Whispers of a Memory

Title: Whisper of a Dance Forgotten

Author: Warwithheaven

Rating: R

Warnings: AU, character death, torture (in past and is hinted at in this chapter), angst, language

Disclaimer: Not mine, nor will it ever be mine. All belong to Rowling and whoever else has there hands in it.

Author's Note: Sorry it has taken me so long to update. Life happened and I had to do a lot of editing but this chapter has still not been sent to my wonderful beta IGToW. I have reposted the Prologue and Chapters One and Two. It is really just a few grammatical errors and a few dialogue changes that I did. (I made Snape a bit more… well mean and sarcastic I suppose you could say.) Sorry for all of the mistakes in this chapter and I will try to get the next one up as soon as I possibly can!

Chapter Three: Whispers of a Memory

_It was raining. _

_Harry sighed and pressed his forehead to the cool glass of the window, his warm breath causing it to fog. He hated weather like this for it always made him think to much about things that he would rather not think of._

_"I thought you weren't supposed to be out of bed, Potter." A voice stated calmly from behind him. "You're going to reopen all of those wounds and then were would you be?" _

_Harry sighed and tightened his grip on the windowsill. "Where I should have been if Snape hadn't healed me." Harry growled slightly in the back of his throat. "What are you doing here anyway Malfoy?" _

_Malfoy shrugged even though Harry couldn't see him, and walked over to Harry, his black cloak billowing out behind him. So not to startle the other boy he moved slowly but still Harry tensed. _

_"I won't hurt you, Potter." Malfoy whispered as he watched the flashes of lightening in the distance. Harry blinked and looked blankly at Malfoy. When no answer was forthcoming from the other boy, Malfoy continued, "I think you need to sit down. I don't think walking around will help your wounds heal." Gently Malfoy took Harry by the arm and, without a whisper of protest, led him slowly back to his hospital bed. Harry's body trembled with each step he took and his breathing became shallow and erratic. "Honestly Potter, how did you make it over there in the first place?" _

_"I don't know." was Harry's simple response. _

_Malfoy sighed and gently rearranged Harry so that he was leaning more of his weight on him. When they made it over to the bed, Harry ungracefully fell onto the crisp white hospital sheets with a moan of pain. Malfoy shook his head and brought the blanket up to Harry's chest. He then sat on the fluffy green chair that Dumbledore had conjured earlier that day when he had visited, and stared at Harry with his perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. _

_Harry watched his flowing movements, somewhat confused, and asked, "Promise?" _

_Malfoy cocked his head to the side and said with a small smirk, "Promise." _

_Harry fell asleep under the watchful eye of Draco Malfoy but when he woke up the next day, Malfoy was no where to be seen._

Harry opened his eyes but quickly closed them as he was assaulted by bright sunlight. He heard a quick patter of footsteps and the _swoosh_ of curtains being shut before he opened his eyes once more. Harry blinked several times so he could see clearly but then realized that his glasses were gone. Confused, Harry tried to remember what had happened and then he recalled the incident at the Three Broomsticks. Sitting up quickly, Harry asked, "Snape? Malfoy?"

"Sorry Mr. Potter, but they aren't here." A woman's voice called from his left.

"Madame Pomfrey?" Harry squinted his eyes so he could see more than the blurred outline of the woman who was walking towards him. When she was close enough she slipped glasses over his ears and up his nose and then reached for Harry's arm that was lying limply at his side.

Harry studied at the woman beside him. She was short and plump like Madame Pomfrey and had stern look on her face like Madame Pomfrey, but she wasn't Madame Pomfrey at all. Harry jerked his arm away and asked, "Who are you?"

"I'm Abigail Pomfrey, sister to 'Madame Pomfrey'." the woman said as she tried to grasp Harry's arm once more. Throwing the covers off, Harry rolled out of bed and moved across what he now noticed was the hospital wing in Hogwarts. "What are you doing! Where are you going, Potter!"

Harry opened the door that led out into the hallway, not looking back, and walked quickly and silently through the halls. He ignored the whispers of the paintings and didn't notice that he passed several students who stood in shock at the appearance of the Boy-Who-Lived.

'You're panicking Potter. Slow down. Breathe.' Harry's steps quickened. 'I'm at Hogwarts. I'm safe.' Harry thought to himself. He couldn't kill that little voice in his head that kept saying, 'Safe? You call this place safe! He killed here! This place is nothing more than a haven for corrupt people and horrible incidences.'

'I need out.' Harry thought to himself. 'Out out out out out.' He was wrong before; he couldn't handle this. Shaking, Harry traveled well-known paths to the front of the front of the school but he never made it.

"Potter, may I ask what you are doing out of the hospital wing." Harry stilled and looked to his left. Malfoy was standing there with his arms crossed and his nose slightly tilted up. Behind Malfoy stood a wizened Albus Dumbledore, who was watching Harry with a small smile.

_"I'm sorry to ask this of you, Harry, but you have to."_

_"I have to? I don't have to do anything, Dumbledore, and a _will not_ being doing that!"_

_"You have to. No one else will."_

_"NO! Sirius isn't a traitor!"_

Harry eyes never strayed from the face of his old headmaster. Memories of blood and mangled bodies flashed through his mind like a sick Muggle horror film. "O Merlin, I'm so sorry." Harry whispered. Dumbledore's smile faded as Harry crumbled right in front of him. "I didn't mean… I didn't want…"

"Harry it's all right—" Dumbledore started but was cut off with a frantic yell.

"Dumbledore, Potter left the hospital wing!" Abigail Pomfrey shouted as she hurried as fast as she could down the stairs. Harry flinched at he voice and began to back away from everyone.

Malfoy, seeing that Harry was about to run for the hills, walked slowly towards the frightened man. With every step he took, Harry would twitch and take a step back.

"You promised! Do NOT get near me, Malfoy! YOU ARE HURTING ME!" Harry hysterically bellowed at the approaching blond.

_"Potter, listen to me. We're getting out of here."_

_"Can't… my legs…"_

_"Don't complain, Scarhead."_

_"Shut up… you stupid Ferret."_

Malfoy froze mid-step with one hand reaching out towards the man in front of him. "How am I hurting you, Potter?"

Harry fell to his knees and grasped his head in pain. "Stay away! Please just go away!"

_"Hmmm, Mr. Potter! You're still alive and breathing I see! How utterly delightful!"_

_"Mr. Malfoy, your son has returned from Hogwarts. He comes bearing news of Dumbledore and the Order."_

_" I suppose we shall leave our play for another time Potter. Don't die while I'm away, Potter, or I might just have to amuse myself with your little Mudblood friend of yours."_

"Stop! STOP!" Harry screamed as he fell to his knees. The paintings began to shake on the walls causing each of their subjects to flee in panic. Then the vases and the statues began exploding with their pieces seemingly flying directly at the other three occupants of the room.

"We need to sedate him! Get Severus and a _Quiesco_ potion!" Dumbledore told Malfoy as he shielded them from the flying pieces of stone and porcelain.

Malfoy, with one last glance at the crumbling man in front of him, dashed down the hall and into the dungeons. He could still feel the vibrations of Harry's magic several stories underground and figured that Snape could as well.

He slid as he turned the last corner to the potions classroom were he knew Snape was teaching fifth year Hufflepuffs and slammed open the large wooden door. Startled, the Hufflepuffs screamed and Snape pulled out his wand and aimed it towards the intruder.

"Draco, what's—"

"Potter…_Quiesco_…magic…" Malfoy said inbetween breaths.

"Stop working on your potions and stay in the classroom." Snape growled at his class as he unlocked a cabinet with a wave of his wand and pulled out a purple vile. Without a second look at the class, he swept out of the room with amazing speed with Malfoy right on his heels.

They reached Harry not a minute later and found the corridor completely destroyed. Paintings were torn into pieces, states and vases were broken, and there were several holes in the wall where strong magical blasts had blown away at the stones. Dumbledore was standing close by with Abigail, a sad look marring his usually jovial face.

"Headmaster?" Snape asked.

Dumbledore nodded and Snape moved like a panther stalking its prey towards the fallen man. Shielding himself from most of the flying debris, Snape got within several feet before he was forced to his knees by the power that emanated from Harry.

"Do not… please…" Harry whispered hoarsely as his eyes caught hold of Snape's.

Growling, Snape crawled the last few feet and forcibly opened Harry's mouth so he could pour the potion down his throat. Harry swallowed enough that the outbursts of magic began to weaken and within a few minutes they disappeared entirely.

Exhausted, Harry stayed kneeling in front of Snape with his head down for several minutes before whispering, "Sorry."

There was silence fore a few moments. Not even Dumbledore dared to say anything that might cause more damage than what was already done.

"You will be fixing all that you have destroyed Potter." Snape growled as stood up and wiped his black robes clean.

Harry lifted his head up and frowned.

"Severus! He will be no such thing! He needs to return to the hospital wing at once!" Abigail said and before anything else could be said or done, Harry was on a stretcher and on his way back to the hospital wing.

"How about a few lemon drops before we start cleaning up?" Dumbledore said smiling slightly.

* * *

Harry was lying in his hospital bed surround by Dumbledore, Snape, Malfoy, McGonagall, and Abigail Pomfrey, while pretending to be asleep.

"It seems that Mr. Potter here has tried to inflict several memory charms on himself over the past several years. Most seemed to have failed completely while some didn't cover up all of a particular memory that he wanted to be gone. For some reason his magic seems to fighting off the memory charms like it is a disease and seems to have created an immunity to a few particular charms." Abigail said.

"Is that even possible?" Malfoy asked, his voice showing the doubt of the possibility of it actually happening.

"Well, there have been a few documented cases over the centuries that describe wizards and witches growing immune to certain spells. It is rare, yes, but it isn't impossible. For instance, in 1455 a witch in what is now France, was discovered to be immune to a spell which allowed her float to reach objects on bookshelves that she couldn't reach. In Canada in 1877 there was a wizard that was unable to cast any kind of eyesight charm on himself. Supposedly the charm worked well for the first few months and then its potency decreased with each use of the charm." Harry heard the turning of pages and then she continued, "There are several other cases but I won't bore you with the details."

"How many times have you calculated that Mr. Potter has used these charms?" Dumbledore asked.

"Well, when I did the initial scan I found close to three hundred but when I ran the scan several more times the numbers just kept increasing," Abligail sighed. "From the last scan, I found close to two thousand and most were cast within the last several years. It seems that Potter had to reapply them almost daily so he wouldn't remember."

"Idiot boy! Common sense was something he never possessed. He is improvident enough to succeed where the Dark Lord failed." Snape loudly snapped.

"Be quite Severus! Harry needs all the rest he can get." McGonagall hissed at Slytherin's Head of House.

Harry wanted to lash out at all of them at his point. 'It is my mind not yours! I can bloody well coat it with memory charms if I so please! It what has kept me kind of sane all of these years.' Harry thought.

"That explains why he seems to get all moody all of a sudden, doesn't it? Once the charm wears off he is suddenly reminded of all the things he wanted to forget about right? That was why he fainted in the Three Broomsticks and why he lost control of his magic?" Malfoy thought out loud.

"You are quite correct, Mr. Malfoy. And it seems that being confronted with certain people speeds up the process of the memory being uncovered, just like in the hallway when he was probably remembering his time with Lucius Malfoy." Dumbledore said.

No one but Harry noticed the soft sigh of sadness and disappointment that escaped Malfoy at that statement. Before Harry could evaluate way why that sadness bothered him, Abigail continued, "The question is what are we going to do about it? We can't let him suffer through all of that and possibly hurt himself and others around him."

Harry heard Dumbledore let out a defeated sigh. "We do nothing."

"Albus! There has to be something we can do!" McGonagall argued.

"There is nothing we can do. The memory charms are fading with time and reapplying them would only make things worse in the end. The dear boy has to deal with his past sometime and now is the best time to do it in." Dumbledore said.

"What do you mean now is the best time to do it in?" McGonagall asked. "If you're talking about those creatures that keep showing up and those disappearances then now is not a good time. The boy has enough on his plate as it is and I refuse for you to put more of a burden on Harry's shoulders."

_"Harry will you do me a favor and hand me that quill over there."_

_"Sure thing Hermione."_

_"How come I am the one doing all of the research? You could at least look through one book."_

_"Mmph. I sorry, didn't I tell you? I can't read."_

_"That was the most idiotic thing you could have said. Don't worry, I won't burden your shoulders with anything else."_

_"Thanks!" _

"Harry snap out of it!"

Harry groaned and clutched his cheek where he'd been slapped. "What the hell was that for?"

"That was for scaring the crap out of me! It felt like the bloody building was going to fall down!"

"Good Merlin, Malfoy! Stop your screeching! It hurts my ears." Harry tried to stuff his head under the pillow hoping to hide from Malfoy and the others in the room.

"For exactly how long have you been eavesdropping on our conversation, Potter? I see you haven't developed any sort of etiquette over the years either." Snape said as he positioned himself by Harry's bedside.

"It wasn't eavesdropping since you were in the same room I was, now was it?" Harry hissed while sitting up in bed.

"Please, gentlemen, stop your bantering. I will assure the both of you will have plenty of time for that later. Now we must discuss Harry's memory problems first." Dumbledore said. Harry glanced at Dumbledore and felt slightly guilty for the stress that he must have put on the older wizard now and in the past seven years.

"There is nothing to discuss, Dumbledore. What I did was in the past and you basically found out the reasons why I did it. End of story. The end." Harry pulled his legs over the side of the bed and stood up on his shaky legs. "Now I want to know why you sent me that letter and what that thing was on the train."

"All in good time, Harry. I will explain everything once everything is settled." Harry glowered at the smiling Dumbledore, not amused at all by the situation. "I want you to regain most of your memories and deal with them before we conti—"

"I will be resuming my use of the memory charms." Harry flatly stated as he gently pushed by the blond Slytherin.

"Absolutely not! You don't know what kind of damage that has done to your brain and what kind of damage could occur onc—"

"I understand, Pomfrey, but this is something I will not budge on."

"Very well then." Dumbledore said.

"Albus you can't be serious!" McGonagall exclaimed.

"He is an adult, Minerva, he can very well do as he pleases." Dumbledore said sadly.

"This is utterly ludicrous! The boy will become nothing more than a drooling puddle of flesh if he continues this." Snape said as he crossed his arms angrily.

"I didn't know you cared, Professor." Harry said, a small smile gracing his lips for the first time since this had started. Snape huffed and glared at the other man on the opposite side of the bed.

"Honestly, the both of you act like three year olds." Malfoy said from where he stood beside Harry.

"And you don't Mr. Malfoy?" Abigail said. Malfoy opened and closed his mouth a few times before he sneered at the woman. Abigail turned back to the Headmaster and said, "I would like to keep Potter here until later on tonight so I can run a few more tests but then after that he is free to go."

Dumbledore nodded, "All right. Whenever he is ready Malfoy and Snape can show him to his room, since he is just right down the hallway."

"What?"

* * *

"Don't get lost Potter. I am wasting enough time as it is by having to take you to your rooms." Snape snapped as he glided down the hallway, his black teachers robes flowing out behind him.

"You don't have to be so rude." Harry replied as he stuffed his hands inside of his pockets. The dungeons were just as Harry remembered them.

Dark, wet, and overflowing with Slytherins.

"Don't look so glum, Potter. You reapplied the charms and all those horrid memories are gone for the moment." Malfoy said. Harry turned his head and glared at the blond.

"Not all of them, or else I wouldn't remember anything at Hogwarts at all."

Before Malfoy could reply, Snape barked out, "We are here."

All three of them stopped in front of a portrait that looked out of place in the dark and gloomy dungeons. The painting was of a beautiful witch sitting on a windowsill looking out over the ocean before she turned and looked at the three men. Floor length brown hair flowed to the floor in curls and curious blue eyes studied each of them in turn before she asked, "Can I help you, sirs?"

"Crusaders." Snape said.

The woman's eyes widened and she quickly stood up. "Oh! Of course!" The painting swung open quickly and almost hit Harry but Malfoy pulled him back.

"This is your room Potter. Good night." And with that Snape walked down the hallway and faded into the shadows.

"My! He is quite rude, isn't he?" The women in the painting observed.

* * *

_"Sirius, please, tell me you didn't kill him." Harry begged as he stood before his godfather._

_"Kill who?" Sirius asked, a bewildered looked gracing his face._

_"Weasly."_

_Sirius' laugh echoed strangely in the empty Great Hall. "Me? Kill Charlie? They've been putting crazy notions into your head again, Harry." Sirius reached out to wrap an arm around Harry's shoulder but Harry pulled away. "Harry?"_

_"I never said it was Charlie. No one but Dumbledore, Mrs. Weasly, and I know that he was killed." Harry pulled out is wand and pointed it at his godfather. "I trusted you and you killed him! Was killing Charlie your primary goal? Or was Snape and Malfoy?"_

_"All of them—"_

_"No!" _

Harry woke up covered in sweat in the large canopy bed that took up most of the room.

"Shit."


End file.
